Tricks (18 page)

Lightning. Without a doubt

I know I need to play cards

just right. I want to yell,

*

"Get the fuck away from me."

But every instinct screeches for me to answer carefully.

*

"Uh, sure." I go to the fridge, reach in for a Keystone.

The guy is right behind me,

*

beer breath hot on my neck.

Iris didn't lie. You really are a knockout.
His arms wrap

*

around me, and his rough hands

go straight to my boobs. I try to knock them away but am no

*

match for his strength.
You like
it rough? 'Cause I'm just the guy to give it that way No extra charge.

*

The words burn into my ear. "What?

What the fuck did you say?" A sudden

burst of will pushes him back, away.

300

I turn to face him. He advances, a thin line of spit leaking from his mouth to his chin. I stare at

*

evil.
I
said, no extra charge.

Already paid two hundred

dollars for a good time with you.

*

Might as well make it very good.

He's on me, yanking my hair, pushing me to my knees. He flips

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me over.
You're even prettier
from behind, know that?
I hear his zipper lower. It is the loudest

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sound ever. "Don't," I try, but it sticks, pasted to disgust, lodged in my throat. Useless to plead. Useless

*

to fight. He yanks down my shorts in a single swift motion. He is on me. In me. Humiliating me in every

*

possible way, right here on the kitchen floor. As promised, he is rough. Biting. Pounding.

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Shredding. Ripping. "Please?"

The word bounces off him, ping-pongs

weakly in my ears. Trying

*

to fight him only fuels him.

For a fleeting second, I think

maybe someone will come

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through the door to save me.

And then, despite everything

that's happening to me, I laugh

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out loud. Save me? What did he say?
I already paid for a good time with you.
I've been

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sold. And just who would

sell me? The answer is all

too obvious: Iris. My mother.

*

And as he finishes, all sticky and stinking and revolting, something else suddenly

*

becomes crystal clear. This day was exactly like that other day.

If this guy paid Iris, so did Walt.

302

When He's Gone

I use wet paper towels to clean the mess on the linoleum. Under the sink, I find the Pine-Sol,

*

carry it to the shower. It stings, which means it's working.

I scrub my body over and over,

*

washing away all evidence of this

afternoon. On TV, they want you to call the cops. Tell. But what do

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I say? "Hey. My mom took money to let some guy rape me." Who'd

believe that? I go to my room,

*

stuff clothes into my backpack.

I'm gone. Where? No clue, but this will never happen again. I feel

*

bad, leaving Gram to deal with Iris.

But she's strong. And with Sandy

home, she'll be here, too. The others

*

will be safe. I'll write her a letter, tell her what she has to know so she'll never let her guard down.

303

The Door Slams Behind Me

I stand on the step for a few

seconds, confused about what to do next. Can't pause long.

*

They'll be home soon. Not like ice cream takes forever. Only

longer than rape. Fuck! My eyes

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burn, and not from the sun, sitting

smack on the western hills. I stare into it, and for one mega-brilliant

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instant, all I can see is a stab of light. My feet start walking toward it. Where else is there to go?

*

Throbbing with pain, inside and out, I find myself on Alex's

street. Should say good-bye.

*

She opens the door.
Damn,
man. You smell like toilet

cleaner. What happened?

Alex lets me in and I sink into cool dark solace, repeat the tale of Ginger, paid for.

304

I Love Alex

Love the way she lets me spew, contributing zero commentary, until I'm obviously finished.

*

When I am, what she says is,

And I thought
my
mother was queen of the fucking wack jobs.

*

So what are you going to do?

She listens as I outline my

non-plan for running away:

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Take off and see where I end up.

Finally she shakes her head.

Stupid idea. You can't just run

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off without some idea of where

you're going and how you'll

get there. The thing is, after we

*

talked about it last time, I started

thinking about the best way to leave this stinking shit hole.

*

Does that mean she wants to go

too? "Really?" I hope she came up with something good. "And...?"

305

Remember I told you about my

dad's old girlfriend, Lydia?

Well, she lives in Henderson.

*

She told me to come visit any time.

We'll stay with her until we can

find a way to get a place of our own.

*

She has thought this through!

A place of our own? Still... "Are

you sure you want to go too?"

*

Hell yeah, girl. You can't go

alone. Besides, there's nothing for me here. Adventure calls!

*

I checked it out and the bus
to Vegas costs thirty-five bucks.

No big deal, right? Any way

*

you could come up with maybe

fifty? I've got a little stashed.

Enough for smokes and Cokes.

*

Where could I get fifty bucks?

The answer smacks me in the face.

She owes me a lot more than that.

306

I Leave My Stuff

Go on home. No cops, no alarms.

No one missed me at all. Not

even Gram, who's fixing dinner.

*

In fact, everything seems so normal it almost makes me wonder if I

imagined what happened earlier.

*

I go over to Gram, give her a hug. "Something smells

good. We've sure missed your

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cooking around here! Where is everybody? Is Sandy home?"

If he is, how can I possibly go?

*

Gram keeps stirring her chili.

No. The tests they ran tired the little guy out. They're keeping

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him one more day, to be sure

he'll be okay
Worry weights her sigh.
He'll be just fine, though.

*

Guilt chews at me until a sudden

whiff of Pine-Sol reminds me

why I'm here. "Where's Iris?"

307

Gram shakes her head.
She and her... her friend went out.

I doubt we'll see her tonight.

*

Perfect. She won't miss it until morning, earliest. By then I'll be

all the way to Vegas. Now I need

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a way back out of here. "Hey,

Gram. I was invited to spend the night with my friend, Al--"

*

Probably should make up a name. "Alicia. We're going to study for finals. Is that okay?"

*

Sure thing, hon. I'm glad

you're finally making

some friends.
Her smile

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initiates a new round of guilt.

Especially considering that not

long after I'm gone, she'll find

*

out I already messed up on my

finals. Oh, well. By then she'll

have given up on me anyway.

308

The Kids

Are in the living room, watching the boob tube. They don't see

me slip down the hall, and that's best.

*

I go into Iris's room. Top dresser

drawer, beneath her underwear--

yech!--there's a navy blue sock,

*

where she stashes her cash.

I watched her do it once when she was too drunk to realize

*

I was standing right there. Sure

enough, it's here, stuffed with sex

money. I count out two hundred,

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which doesn't include whatever

Walt paid her. Screw it. I take the whole wad--four hundred

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sixty-nine dollars. In its place,

I leave a note:
Not even close to what you owe me. I hate you.

*

"Bye, Gram," I call, eyes stinging.

I ease out the door, into velvet

night, chasing a glimpse of freedom.

309

When I Come Through the Door

Alex is packed and waiting, rocking softly side to side in a nerve-fueled rhythm.

*

Wow. I've never seen her look so worried. "Are you

sure you want to do this?"

*

Her odd movement stills and she looks at me with shimmering eyes.
I've wanted

*

to run forever, but I was scared to run alone. I never

told you the truth about Paul.

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he's not my stepdad. Mom
and him never got married.

When they sent her away,

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he let me stay with him,
but only if I... you know.

I have nothing here, or

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anywhere, except for what

I have with you. Let's go before he gets home, okay?

310

The Half-Empty Bus

Idles, preparing for departure.

The diesel fumes are strong, but the seats are comfy. No one

*

cares about Alex and me in back, sipping rum from a water bottle. Before long,

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I feel zero fear. Zero pain.

I flip up the armrest between us, slip my hand into hers.

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Heedless of any prying eyes, she kisses me, and I kiss back, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

*

My heart dances. My body, abused so viciously just

hours ago, at last knows joy.

*

As the bus begins to roll, my lips spill words unspoken until now. "I love you, Alex."

*

I love you too. Now let's get
the flying fuck out of here.

Together we break free.

311

A Poem by Cody Bennett
Flying

Is that what it's like when you die? Do you

slip out of your skin, go

soaring up into a butterscotch

sky? Do you surf waves of light? How far?

How high?

I hope that's what it's

like, but I'm afraid

it's a lot more like falling with no net to catch

you, and no way of knowing

how hard

you will hit or where

you'll stop. Will you touch down back on Earth, or will you land in the nightmare

you always feared

you'd never wake up from?

312

Cody Funerals Suck

This isn't the first one I've had to go to. There were a couple in

Wichita. But this is the first one

that mattered. Old people are supposed to die. Jack wasn't old, and he sure wasn't ready to die.

*

It's a blistering day, and we're

standing here graveside, dressed

all in black. Fuck you, Jack. How

could you leave us? You swore

you'd take care of us. And now

you're nothing but pickled flesh,

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broken promises. Mom is a mess, although she pretends she's okay and looks steadier than Cory, who is completely tattered. The two brace

each other, trying to stop shaking as the minister drones on about

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Going home to his heavenly father.

Funny, but none of us really thought

much about heaven until the last

few weeks. Is there such a place, and is Jack already there? Is there a chance in hell someday I'll join him?

313

If Funerals Suck

Wakes are worse. I don't even

know who half these people

are, laughing and drinking and scarfing the food they brought so Mom wouldn't have to worry about cooking for a day or two.

*

They should just go and leave the food. Better yet, run to the grocery store and fill up the fridge. It's almost empty.

The only thing emptier is my

chest--where my heart used to be.

*

The doorbell rings. I open it to find Ronnie, a total knockout despite how ashen her face looks.

Is all that pale meant for me?

Hey, you.
Her voice is soft. So is the hand that touches my cheek.

*

How are you doing? Sorry

I missed the service. I meant
to come, but I overslept and...

She shakes her head.
The truth

is, cemeteries scare me to death.

The last word makes her flinch.

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"Hey, it's okay. I'm not big on them either." I take her hand, pull her through the door. No